


one is roots and the other is wings

by andthentheybow



Series: of false gods and fake kings and everything in between [2]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: And Of Course - Freeform, Dadza, Found Family, Gen, Minecraft IRL, Non-Linear Narrative, Philza-centric, ft phil's thoughts on the dream smp, sbi as family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthentheybow/pseuds/andthentheybow
Summary: when his sons leave, he makes them promise to write and visit and please, for the love of ender, don’t mess someone else’s world up too badly. he reads every letter they send and knows that his sons are alive.that doesn’t mean he necessarily likes what they’re doing.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Series: of false gods and fake kings and everything in between [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001208
Comments: 29
Kudos: 482





	one is roots and the other is wings

**Author's Note:**

> don't be creepy about content creators, these are my interpretations of their personas, if they're uncomfortable this will be deleted, etc etc

if there ever were to be gods among men, he’s probably the closest you could get.

maybe god isn’t the right term. hero, perhaps. warrior. he strikes a fearsome pose, great grey wings spread behind him, eyes glowing in the night. it’s around the second child that he adopts the green-striped bucket hat. his youngest tells him it makes him look fucking stupid.

he’s not a god among men. far from it. he’s an adventurer, an explorer, a survivor. he conquers worlds with the respawn off and he laughs while doing it. he builds homes in the nether and the end and teaches younger adventurers how to use an elytra, since not everyone is gifted with the wings he has. he kills hundreds of thousands of mobs and lets their blood stain his hands. he’s been to every possible biome a hundred times over. he’s an adventurer, an explorer, a survivor.

and a father.

he knows exactly how and why he started his little family. it’s because he was far from his home world, off on another adventure, and he found a kid. and then another. and another. and ender if he wasn’t going to give those kids a home.

so god isn’t the right term. angel, maybe, saving lost boys from the wild, with a bucket hat for a halo. he’s certainly got the wings for it. but sometimes he looks at the blood on his hands and he doesn’t feel so holy.

***|***

when his sons leave, he makes them promise to write and visit and please, for the love of ender, don’t mess someone else’s world up too badly. he reads every letter they send and knows that his sons are alive. 

that doesn’t mean he necessarily likes what they’re doing.

they’re going along with two of his points! which is good, he supposes, because they write and sometimes they visit. sure, dream showing up and explaining his point of view of the whole revolution thing kind of goes against the third point (not messing up someone else’s world too badly). but they go along with two of his points, which he counts as a win.

honestly, he’s kind of surprised something like that hadn’t happened sooner. his boys have always been confrontational, especially when it comes to authority. he’s more surprised that dream didn’t kick their asses to kingdom come. ender knows they deserve it sometimes.

***|***

dear dadza,

we have started a revolution! pog! as you may have heard from wilbur, we have been just vibing in dream’s world, but now because of something something drugs we have decided to revolt against his cruel oppression and have formed our own nation of l’manberg.

do not worry! we are all doing okay. my best friend tubbo and wilbur’s son fundy have both sided with us as well, so we have plenty of troops. all is well!

your beloved youngest son,  
tommy

***|***

he worries about his boys. he knows they can take care of themselves perfectly fine, but they’re all hot-headed and can be stupid at times. but he trusts them not to get themselves killed, and he trusts them to keep each other safe. he knows that tommy and wilbur are together, in dream’s world, and if they called techno would go to them in an instant.

he won’t go to them. they know this. it was part of the lecture, before they all took off at the same time. if they need him, he will be there, but he will not fight their battles for them. he has raised them and trained them and taught them to love and to fight for what is right. but if, and when, they get themselves in trouble- they had better be smart enough to get themselves out of it.

which is why he doesn’t think otherwise about the constant flow of letters about the war for l’manberg’s independence. he worries about them, sure, and hopes they’re eating well and remembering to take care of themselves, and when the letters stop for days at a time he logically knows that they’re probably busy with another battle, but he still worries. he’s their father, the leader of their little found family, of course he’s going to worry about them.

in all honesty, he’s a bit relieved when he gets word that techno’s found his way to his brothers. now all three of his sons are there, but at least they’re together, under the watchful eye of techno’s sword. wilbur and tommy are far from incompotent, sure, but techno is called the blood god for a reason.

***|***

techno is the first, the beginning. he’s been adventuring for several years at this point, never really getting tired of it. he can’t even remember what it is he’s supposed to be doing, if he has a specific goal with this, because every thought from here on out is centered around this little kid with bright pink hair that’s holding a sword up.

they’re in the nether. he’s been searching for the fortress, going on foot to avoid the ghasts, when he stumbles upon what he thinks is a lone piglin. and then he realizes that this creature is much too small to be a piglin, and it’s not even a piglin, they’re a hybrid, and they’re holding a diamond sword that’s much too large for their tiny frame and pointing it directly at him.

he approaches slowly, hands outstretched, trying to show that he isn’t a threat. as he gets closer, he sees that the kid can’t be more than ten years old. he’s got two distinctive teeth jutting out of his lower jaw and definitive pig’s ears. his bright pink hair is long and braided messily, entwined with strands of gold, and he has a red cape that’s much too large for him slung over his shoulders.

how the hell a kid ended up in the nether is beyond him. how the hell a kid survived the nether is even further. yeah, in some worlds hybrids are treated like shit, and oh, this is one of those worlds, isn’t it? fine, then, he supposes he’ll take this kid back to his own. give him a real family.

“hey,” he says softly. he doesn’t even know if the kid speaks his language. “my name’s philza. phil. what’s yours?” the kid’s sword tips dangerously low to the ground, and he struggles to right it. ender, the kid is small.

slowly, phil extends one wing, trying to show the kid that he isn’t a threat, he’s a hybrid, too. he smiles as gently as he can. “do you wanna come back to my base with me? i can get you some food, maybe a sword that’s more your size.”

the kid doesn’t answer. he lowers the sword, but his grip on it tightens. “no? you like that sword? that’s fine, we’ll just get you some food, then.” the kid just stares. “do you understand me? can you even understand me?” ender, phil’s regretting this. he should’ve just kept going for the fortress, it’s not like a kid here is his problem, really-

and then the kid nods and drops the sword to the ground. his gaze goes from defensive to tired, so very tired, and phil feels his heart melt a little bit.

“alright, kid,” he says. “if you’re not gonna talk to me, you need a name.” he glances down at the sword in the kid’s hands. “you seem pretty attached to that sword. blade? i’ll call you blade.” one corner of the kid’s mouth twitches up into a smirk, and phil laughs.

“d’you mind if i hold onto that for you?” he asks, gesturing to the aforementioned weapon. “just on the way back.”

the kid shrugs, takes a few steps closer, and then holds the sword out to phil. he takes it with a grin, makes sure it’s strapped to his side next to his own sword, and then holds out a hand to blade. blade looks at him, confused, and phil unfurls his other wing, letting them stretch out. the kid seems to understand and grabs his hand.

phil picks him up in both arms and takes off into the air, soaring over the lava, searching for his portal. there’s a strange sound and it takes him a moment to realize that the kid’s laughing, whooping for joy as they fly, and phil does a few loops that make them both laugh.

by the time they’re back to phil’s home world, blade is asleep, curled into his chest. he smiles and gets the kid set up in his bed and then he panics a little bit, because ender, he just brought a child home. an actual child, who will have actual needs and desires and-

and quickly because a permanent fixture in phil’s life. he spends a few days taking care of the kid, showing him around the place and reintroducing him to normal life. blade drags his sword around with him everywhere and doesn’t take off his tattered red cape and eventually, sitting at phil’s wooden table that he hastily built a second chair for, the kid speaks to him.

“techno,” is all his says, his voice deeper than phil was expecting. phil just looks at him. the kid points at himself. “techno,” he repeats.

“well hey, techno,” phil says. “nice to meet you.”

“technoblade,” the kid says, happily, his legs swinging back and forth on the chair. phil feels a swell of fatherly pride and oh, that’s a new feeling, and he grins.

***|***

phil-

don’t know if you heard, wilbur and tommy dragged me into their little scuffle. something about an election and schlatt and now they’ve been exiled. they’ve started a new nation called pogtopia, except it’s more of a rebellion than a nation.

you know me, i’m just in it for the anarchy. i dunno. this whole thing seems sketchy, but hey, who am i to argue?

i’ll make sure they take care of themselves. don’t worry about us.

-technoblade

***|***

he’s always enjoyed a little bit of chaos. maybe that’s why techno turned out the way he did, the anarchy-loving little bastard. he loves the feeling of killing a raid, slaughtering the enemies and knowing that the peaceful villagers are safe. the wings make him seem like an angel, a savior, especially to places where hybrids are rarer. he likes that feeling less, much less than the rush of actually doing the saving.

because they call him an angel, a savior, and he knows he’s anything but. he’s got blood on his hands, so much blood, and there’s nothing he can do to wash it off. he kills monsters, sure, but he likes the killing too much to ever be anything holy. it’s not a sense of duty, it’s an enjoyment. it’s fun.

he’s got blood on his hands, and he can’t wash it off. sometimes he doesn’t know if he wants to.

***|***

as a father, all he wants is to give his sons two things: roots, and wings. he wants them to spread their metaphorical wings (since none of them have physical ones) and fly, and he wants them to know that they always have a home with him, with each other.

he thinks the message gets across rather well, over the years that he raises them. they know that when it’s time, they have to come home. return to their roots. home won’t come to them- they’ll have to make that choice for themselves.

that doesn’t mean that sometimes he doesn’t want to go out there and drag them back home. like now, when he can see the familiar white mask even from up in the air. he descends as quickly as he can, preparing for the worst. there’s a little part of him that wants to grab his sword and stab dream, but he doesn’t have the weapon on him.

but all in all, no matter what his boys have gotten up to, he and dream are friends, and he knows in his gut that dream comes in peace. the feeling is only solidified when dream lifts the mask and offers him a smile- real, not painted.

“philza,” he says in greeting, holding out a hand, and he shakes it.

“dream,” he replies. “why don’t you come inside?”

it’s much later, after cups of tea and tales of the war, that the purpose of dream’s visit comes to light. “technoblade has accepted my offer to join my world.”

“i know,” he replies. “got the letter earlier today.”

“then you know why i’m here,” dream says. “i’m offering the same invitation to you. wilbur and tommy are on the run, and i know they could use their family on their side.”

for a moment, he considers accepting. but techno is there now, so he knows the boys will be alive, if not safe.

“they know i won’t fight their battles for them. thank you, but no.”

dream comes back a second time a few weeks later, tells phil about how wilbur’s gone insane and has laced manberg with tnt, how he’s scaring tommy a bit, how techno isn’t stopping him. he extends the same invitation. once again, he considers accepting. but his boys know that no matter how they fight, their roots will always exist for them to come home to, where they’ll be together despite their fights and their differences. he declines once again.

the third time is after the festival. dream tells him everything, spares no detail. he tells him about techno’s ‘betrayal’, the pit, everything. frantically, almost, he makes sure that the god of the world has respawn on, and dream confirms that he does. and he declines a third time, this time without hesitation.

maybe it’s because he won’t fight their battles. maybe it’s because he’s afraid he’ll get too invested in their battles. he’s got blood on his hands just like the rest of them. if wilbur wants to blow it up, would he stop him?

he gets the letter almost a month later. it’s from dream, detailing what’s happening- the day will come where they go to war, again, and wilbur isn’t planning on letting manberg slip through his grasp again. either they win, or it goes.

phil’s surprised it took this long. wilbur’s always beaten his wings a little more erratically than the rest.

***|***

techno has been with him for a little more than a year, and in that time, phil’s fully leaned into the role of father. techno, for his part, has grown from a timid ten-year-old into a peculiarly violent eleven-year-old. he speaks in a monotone voice most of the time, but he isn’t shy about speaking his mind and finding means of expression. he’s also shown a liking for potatoes and blood.

he’s not complaining. the kid’s an excellent fighter when he has a weapon he can actually hold, and that just means he can take the kid out on adventures with him, get him some more experience. it’s on one of these adventures that he finds another child that he knows he’s going to adopt, because that’s just who he is at this point, he guesses.

they’re in their home world, close to their base, lying in wait for an animal to pass by, when they hear the sounds of a guitar strumming. he and techno look at each other- they don’t know anyone nearby that plays instruments, and it doesn’t sound like any discs they’ve heard. techno, being an impulsive adolescent boy with the advantage of a giant sword, takes off running toward the sound.

he curses and runs after his son, slamming branches aside as he goes. techno’s not hard to spot, bright pink hair standing out a mile away, crouched a few meters away from a cliff face. he’s got his sword down on the ground and is staring peculiarly at the wall.

there’s a kid there, probably a few years older than techno, clutching a guitar to his chest. he's got a dark grey beanie covering his curly hair, which also looks dark grey- everything about him looks dark, really, like he hasn’t had a proper bath in months.

yeah, alright. new kid. what the hell.

“hey,” he says softly, crouching down next to techno. “hey, i’m phil. this is technoblade. what’s your name?”

“wilbur,” the kid says quietly, glancing back and forth between the two.

“well, wilbur, our house isn’t far from here, and you look like you could use a bath,” phil offers. “you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, but i’d say you need to get some food in you.”

wilbur looks like he’s debating whether he can trust them or not, and techno offers a rare smile. the boy hesitates for a moment more, then nods quickly.

honestly, phil expects him to leave after a day or two. wilbur spends the first night in phil’s bed while the man paces around outside. once he’s showered and in clothes that actually fit him (techno’s, surprisingly, because wilbur’s small enough) it’s easy to see that he’s a teenager, probably capable of taking care of himself. on the second day, he goes out for several hours, and phil and techno don’t expect to be seeing him again. but he comes back at dinner time and he’s got his guitar slung over his shoulder, a bag full of apples, and a guilty smile on his face.

phil can’t help but scold him for leaving without letting them know, techno smirking in the corner the whole time. wilbur keeps his head down, but he’s smiling, and the next day phil starts planning an extension for the house.

techno and wilbur get on like a house on fire. phil notices things about them when they’re together- they have the same chaotic tendencies, the same love for adventuring and creating and destroying. as he gets to know wilbur more, he’s worried that he and techno will clash, but they don’t.

phil knows techno well enough to think that he’d be the more outspoken one as compared to wilbur’s quietness, but he’s quickly proven wrong. sure, techno is loud about what he wants and doesn’t bother to ask for permission. wilbur is quieter about it, more sly. but when it comes down to it, phil sees the violence in wilbur’s gaze, can see how unstable the boy is. both of his sons crave violence, and he tries his damn best to give it to them in a controlled setting; killing monsters under his watchful gaze rather than setting a forest on fire for fun. he’s never sure if it’s enough.

***|***

dadza-

wilbur’s gone off the deep end. i’m not sure what to do anymore. i know he gets like this sometimes, but this- this is something else. he’s actually scaring me. i thought techno would take my side but he’s just, gone. wilbur wants to blow the place to hell. he thinks that if we can’t have l’manberg, no one can. ‘let’s be the villains’, that’s what he said to me. ‘let’s be the villains’.

i don’t want to be the villain, dad. i know that wilbur’s still in there somewhere, otherwise i would’ve taken off by now. i’ve got my discs and i’ve got tubbo, and we’d be fine just the two of us. but i’m not giving up on wil.

i think the worst part of it is that he was wondering if you’d be proud. he said that to me. he wanted to know if you would be proud of everything he was doing. and i couldn’t answer him, because i don’t know. you always tell us to spread our wings, and wil’s certainly doing that.

i dunno, dad. i don’t know how this is gonna end. i just figured i should let you know about all of this.

love, tommy

he reads the letter and then he reads it again. and again. and again. is he proud?

“wil’s gone off the deep end,” he snorts to himself, and then he starts writing tommy back.

***|***

he knows his boys will return to their roots eventually. he’s sure they’ll probably bring guests with them. but he is not expecting his son to be back in his home world so soon, accompanied by a boy whose name he recognizes, but whose face he doesn’t.

he’s on the roof, staring at the sky, something he’s taken to doing these days. it gets too quiet, with all the boys gone. he’s been exploring a lot to fill the time, so his senses are still running on high alert, which is probably why he hears them before he sees them. his head is shooting up, because he knows that voice, and a moment later he sees a familiar red and white t-shirt through the trees.

he’s up in an instant, wings beating frantically, because if tommy is back here then what-

“dadza!” tommy screeches, and he nearly tackles his son to the ground with how hard they collide. he allows himself to hold his boy for a long, long moment before pulling back. tommy’s taller than last time, which is no surprise, the boy’s growing like wheat in the rain. he’s got more scars, which isn’t surprising, given everything that’s going on. his mouth is running a mile a minute, which is no surprise, and he patiently waits as his son explains that there was a lull in activity and they really, really needed to get away for a while. it’s then that he notices the other boy hiding behind his son.

“oh! dadza, this is tubbo,” tommy says with a grin, grabbing the smaller kid’s arm and pulling him forward. tubbo has fresh scars running down the side of his face, clear burn marks. fireworks, explosions- respawning takes away the imminent threat, sure, but it doesn’t take away the pain or the scars. techno did that to him, he knows this by now, dream told him. ender, look what his family’s come to.

“pleasure to meet you, sir! i’ve heard a lot about you!” tubbo says excitedly. the kid’s nervous, he can tell, gripping tommy’s arm tightly with both hands. he ushers both kids inside, starts preparing dinner- they’re not staying long, just a night, just to get away. they eat dinner on the couch because they can, and when he gets back from doing the dishes, the two boys are curled around each other, fast asleep. he feels his heart do that thing that it does sometimes when he finds a new kid in need of a home.

he was not expecting to adopt a fourth child today, but if that’s how this is going to go; well, he’s pretty much accepted it at this point. it’s clear that the kid is flighty, dangerous, indicated by the way his gaze swivels around and the sword he’s holding even in his sleep, so he’s got wings.

well, he supposes he’ll give tubbo some roots.

***|***

roots are what techno spends hours cultivating, proudly showing him the first potato harvested every year, no matter how old he gets. wilbur makes fun of him the first year and techno nearly beats the shit out of him in the only physical altercation between the two of them he can remember.

it’s four years after wilbur arrives when techno goes out to care for his precious plants and two minutes later yells, “phil? there’s a kid in my potatoes.”

phil and wilbur are both outside in a matter of seconds, standing with techno above a sleeping child, curled up among the greens.

“what the shit?” wilbur remarks flatly.

phil gets over his momentary shock and picks the kid up. he’s tiny, tinier than either techno or wilbur were when he found them, and that’s saying something. the kid doesn’t even stir as he carries him inside, wilbur and techno both following behind him anxiously.

he’s outside when the kid wakes up. they’ve had eyes on him the whole time, he thinks it’s wilbur sitting with him now. he and techno are working on the potatoes when he hears wilbur start screaming, and then an unfamiliar voice screaming, and then he and techno are both bolting back inside to find wilbur holding the child up in their air, legs flailing.

“this gremlin attacked me!” wilbur cries.

“i am not a gremlin!” the kid screams back.

phil doesn’t think he actually has a choice when it comes to keeping this kid, who firmly insists through lots of yelling that he is staying here now, yes. he lays claim to phil’s bed and phil’s room, where he woke up. somewhere in there he tells him that his name is tommy.

which, yeah, alright. phil will raise this kid too, and while tommy clashes with wilbur and techno a lot more than they do with each other, it also seems like he’s exactly what they need to balance their dynamic out. and no matter how much they yell at each other, it’s so, so abundantly obvious how much his sons love each other.

***|***

dad,

sorry i haven’t written in a bit. things have gotten busy. schlatt’s making a mess that i’m not helping to clean up. i think i might be freaking tommy out a little, but i know at the end of the day we’ll come home and it’ll all be fine.

techno’s here now, which is good, i guess. he’s still got that stupid red cape and the crown, and he absolutely refuses to let me cut his hair. joke’s on him, i’ll do it in his sleep. and i’ve got my trench coat for a cape and beanie for a crown, so who’s the real king, yeah?

i’m trying my best to make you proud, but i’ve got to do what’s right for me too. just know that no matter what happens, no matter what you hear from tommy or techno or even dream, i’m your son and i’m watching out for my brothers.

all my love,  
wilbur

***|***

sometimes he wonders how he let it get this far. if he had raised them differently, would the outcome be different? would they be less keen on bloodshed, on starting war after war after war? no. techno may be the blood god, but his boys all have a bloodlust, one that started with him and seeped through into them. he raised them to be like him, and though he tries his damn best to be kind, his hunger for adventure outgrows everything but his love for his family.

sometimes he looks at the blood on his hands and wonders what they’ve become. if it would be better for him to go to wilbur and tell him to knock it the fuck off. he settles for a letter saying exactly that, though he doubts it’ll do much. he knows there’s a chance he’d show up and yes, want to care for everyone, but also want to burn it all down. burn down the city that caused so much hurt and pain and revel in the ashes.

his boys have a bloodlust, and they got it from him. they copy his roots and his wings and his thirst for something more, because that’s how he raised them. how can he punish them for following his footsteps?

no. he’ll let them come home and he’ll teach them that just because they have a bloodlust doesn’t mean they have to follow it. just because they’ve been given pain doesn’t mean they need to distribute it. it’s not a lesson for today, but for tomorrow, when the war is over and the dust has settled and he can think about manberg without thinking that perhaps wilbur is in the right.

***|***

it is their last dinner as a family. the boys are leaving in the morning, all heading to different places. he was hesitant about letting tommy leave, but the boy is sixteen. he was younger than sixteen when he first started adventuring, after all, and wilbur’s promised to look after him the whole time.

wilbur and techno have both been in and out, but they’ve always returned, and tommy’s never left before. this will be the first time they’re all gone, and he isn’t quite sure how to feel about it. techno, the older brother figure despite the fact that he’s between the two in age, has promised their father that if there’s even the slightest sign of danger, he’ll be there to protect his brothers. he isn’t quite sure he believes him, but the promise is enough.

sitting around the table, looking at his sons, all he can think is of how proud he is of them. even if they haven’t gone out and conquered worlds and killed dragons, they’ve done so much. grown so much. they love so much. he couldn’t ask for anything else.

and just like the potato farm that they harvest every fall, they’ve grown their roots so strong into the ground here that he knows they’ll return. just like their father, they spread their wings and let the wind run through their hair and they fly. ender damn it, do they fly.


End file.
